


Standing Right Here

by Hazel_Athena



Category: The Magnificent Seven (2016)
Genre: Ensemble Cast, Everybody Lives, M/M, Oblivious, failed flirting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-29
Updated: 2017-04-29
Packaged: 2018-10-25 09:15:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10761213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hazel_Athena/pseuds/Hazel_Athena
Summary: Still waiting for Vasquez to decide what his next move in their game is going to be, Faraday scratches at the beard scruff along one side of his jaw as he considers how best to respond. "Well," he says slowly, "I'm just sayin', if guero means handsome, and you were usin' it as early as when we first showed up in Rose Creek, now, a fella could get the wrong impression. Not that I blame you, of course. I do cut quite an impressive figure."





	Standing Right Here

Someone raps their knuckles heavily on the door to his room, and Faraday huffs out an annoyed breath before he can stop himself. He's already chased one of his army of nursemaids out once today, and while he should maybe feel bad about that, mostly he just feels a deep sense of satisfaction. 

"What?" He barks, short tempered and irritable, hoping that whoever it is will have the sense to leave him alone when they hear his snarl. A low chuckle rings out from the other side of the door, leaving Faraday more than a little surprised when it cracks open and Vasquez pokes his head inside. 

"Should I be waving a white flag?" He asks his dark eyes dancing as he peers down at where Faraday's lying in the bed he's started to think of as a linen-lined prison. "That's what you do when you're not a threat, si?" 

"Ain't no world where you're not a threat," Faraday growls. "Did you want something?" His irritation is mostly just for show at this point - he's bored and desperate for company, and unlike his caregivers this particular company is likely to be the kind he can stand - but Vasquez doesn't need to know that. He's without a doubt the type to never let Faraday live it down. 

"Si, guero." Coming fully into the room, Vasquez glances back in the hallway suspiciously, and then closes the door behind him using his good arm, apparently satisfied with whatever he'd seen. "I need a place to hide." 

Faraday blinks at him in confusion. "What's that supposed to mean?" 

Vasquez makes a face as he drops into the rickety wooden chair by Faraday's bedside. It creaks ominously under his weight, but miraculously holds. "The townspeople are being ... odd. Overbearing, I think is the word you would use. I need to get away from them for a little while." 

Faraday grimaces. He can relate to how Vasquez is feeling because he's in the same boat. The only difference being Vasquez is in good enough shape to come and go as he pleases, whereas Faraday is bedridden for the foreseeable future. "I hear that," he says, "If Leni Frankle tries to fluff my pillows one more time, I'm goin' to pitch her right out the goddamned window."

Vasquez lets out one of the low, rumbling laughs Faraday's come to associate him with and kicks his heels up onto the edge of Faraday's mattress. "Exactamente.” He says, pleased. "You understand. They are everywhere." 

He makes a truly ridiculous face and sets his voice to a mocking falsetto, one made all the worse when he attempts to mimic the townsfolks' heavy drawl as well. "Oh, Mr. Vasquez don't worry about that. I'll get that. Let me lift that. You don't have to do that. Someone can help you with that." He snorts and gives up the impression, his voice dropping back into its usual deep, thickly accented register. "If I had known getting shot in the arm was enough to turn me into an invalid, I would have asked to be shot in the head also."

Faraday frowns at this, not particularly liking the thought of Vasquez dying during the battle for Rose Creek, especially given how close they'd all come. "You shouldn't joke about that," he scolds. "You're lucky the mess of your arm was all that happened to you." 

Vasquez gives him a surprised look, and then shrugs as best as he's able with his arm in the state it's in, the Blackstone bullet having taken a decent sized chunk out of his bicep, leaving him without full use of the limb for the time being. He's got it strapped down across his chest in a sling right now, and as Faraday watches, he wriggles the fingers of his left hand, making an annoyed face for some inexplicable reason. 

"I suppose you're right, guero," he says finally, and then he flashes a sly grin. "I could be as be as banged up as you or the other three, although Billy's been up on his feet a few times that I know of." 

Faraday feels an irrational stab of jealousy run through him at this news. He supposes he shouldn't be surprised - out of the four of them who've been bedridden by their injuries, Billy had been the least badly hurt - but it sticks in his craw something awful that others are making progress enough to get up and about, while he's stuck with nothing to do but stare at the walls of his room all day. Letting his head drop back against the pillows, he glares up at the ceiling and groans. "I am so fuckin' bored." 

There's a chuckle from off to the side, and Vasquez pulls his feet down, thumping then onto the floor with practised ease. "I know, that's why I came to you." 

When Faraday turns to look at him, the outlaw shrugs and roots around in his vest with his good hand. "Rocks and Robicheaux don't want anybody's company but each other's, and Horne, as fond as I am of him, is a little odd even for my tastes. Plus we have little in common. You though, I figure I can stand to sit with you for a while." 

Faraday narrows his eyes, unsure of if he should be offended or not. He decides to go the route of treating it like a joke. "Vasquez, if this is you tryin' to flirt with me, I have to tell you you're doin' a piss poor job of it." 

Vasquez freezes for the briefest of seconds, the twitch so minuscule Faraday doubts he'd have caught it if he hadn't been staring right at the man. Then the moment passes, and Vasquez is pulling a flask and a deck of cards from his vest. 

He drops them lightly on the bed and Faraday is startled to realize it's not just any deck and flask, but his own, items he thought he'd lost when he'd blown the gatling gun. "Huh," he says, looking up at Vasquez shrewdly. "I take it back. If this is you tryin' to flirt with me, carry on." 

Vasquez rolls his eyes, but Faraday doesn't think he's imagining the faint blush tinting the other man's cheeks. He resolves to file this information away for a later date. "It's not flirting, guero," Vasquez says then, dragging Faraday's thoughts back to the here and now. He squirms in his seat in an obvious attempt to get comfortable and then just as obviously gives it up as a lost cause. "It's bribery. I figure you will be more likely to let me stay if I entertain you." 

It's on the tip of Faraday's tongue to say Vasquez could entertain him in other ways, but he figures he's pushed his luck enough for the moment. "Alright," he agrees, "but I'm under strict orders to not so much as sit up in bed without supervision, so I don't know how we're goin' to play." 

Vasquez grins at him. "I'll be your supervision. I'm very responsible. The most responsible." 

Faraday stares at him. Vasquez stares back. In the end he's not sure which of them cracks first, but both of their laughter rings out loud enough that Faraday suspects it makes the walls shake.

*****

"Guero, stop trying to cheat. You're not in good enough shape for it, and you're only embarrassing yourself."

Faraday looks up from where he's been subtly trying to tuck the jack of hearts up his sleeve, and gives Vasquez an unrepentant grin, not at all bothered at having been caught out. "I've got no choice. My skills will fade if I don't keep practicin'." 

Across from him, Vasquez rolls his eyes and carefully adjusts his grip on his own cards. He's had to play with them tucked into the loose hold of his bad hand, while he uses his good one to choose what ones he wants to use. More than once he’s scattered them all over the floor by moving too much or too quickly without thinking. "Your skills, as you call them, will not fade. I'm sure you've had them for far longer than not."

"Since almost before I could walk," Faraday admits with a grin. He'd grown up watching the old men playing cards in the tavern where his Ma had worked, and more than one of the whiskey soaked bastards had thought it hilarious to teach their little knee high shadow a trick or two, or at least they had until he'd gotten good enough to start fleecing _them_. "But ain't you ever heard how practice makes perfect?"

"Si, but I don't think you need to get any better," Vasquez says, concentrating on his own cards. 

Faraday eyes him from where he's reclining back against the stack of pillows they'd arranged to let him sit up, chewing on his lip thoughtfully. "You sayin' I'm already perfect?" He asks, wishing Vasquez was looking at him so he could add a roguish wink to the words.

As it happens, Vasquez does look up at this line, although it's only to grace Faraday with another eye roll. "Guero, if you're perfect, then I'm the King of Spain, and I've never even left North America. Don't be ridiculous."

There are times when Faraday can't be anything but, and right now he's enjoying himself - notably for the first time since he'd woken up in the Rose Creek infirmary however many days ago - meaning he's not about to stop his ribbing anytime soon. "You know," he says idly, "you never did tell me what 'guero' means. I'm just goin' to keep on assumin' it means handsome."

"You do that, guero," Vasquez tells him, and, honestly, if than man rolls his eyes much more they're liable to fall right out of his head. He should be careful with that.

"I will, thank you," Faraday continues on undeterred. "However, I must say, I think it's a bit forward of you to have been makin' remarks such as that when we'd only just met."

"What?" Vasquez looks less exasperated at this point, and more legitimately confused. "What are you talking about now?"

Still waiting for Vasquez to decide what his next move in their game is going to be, Faraday scratches at the beard scruff along one side of his jaw as he considers how best to respond. "Well," he says slowly, "I'm just sayin', if guero means handsome, and you were usin' it as early as when we first showed up in Rose Creek, now, a fella could get the wrong impression. Not that I blame you, of course. I do cut quite an impressive figure."

"More like an annoying figure," Vasquez replies with a snort. "Which, as it happens is what guero means - annoying, white man."

"You're lyin'," Faraday singsongs. "I know you are."

"Not as much as you think," Vasquez shoots back.

Faraday laughs unreasonably pleased to have someone around who isn't treating him like he's made of glass. He'd suspected from their first meeting that he and Vasquez would get along fine, something they'd then proved in the days leading up to the battle, and he's glad to see that hasn't changed. 

Granted, Faraday had taken one look at the man and been interested in plenty more than friendship. He'd just never bothered to act on it what with how certain doom seemed to be hanging above their heads. Maybe now, though, he'll get a chance to aim for that as well. If nothing else, Vasquez hasn't tried to stop him in his flirting all afternoon, so that could be a good sign.

They play through several rounds of cards, wiling away the day in each other's company, and only stopping when Faraday's door is shoved open unceremoniously as the town doctor comes inside. He eyes them both for a moment or two before heaving out a sigh. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. Where else would my missing patient be, but with the most crotchety one?"

"Who're you callin' crotchety?" Faraday demands, figuring that has to be referring to him since Vasquez is the only one mobile enough to go missing. "I'll have you know it's been nothin' but sunshine and roses all up in this room today."

The doctor gives him an eye roll that could put Vasquez to shame. "Faraday, don't make my point for me. Clara Hawkins was in my office all of an hour ago sayin' she won't wait on you again until you learn some manners, and that woman has the patience of a saint."

Faraday snorts. "Good for her. She's also got the bedside manner of a crocodile with a toothache. Tell her I'll behave when she does."

Next to him, Vasquez tries without success to cover up a snicker with a cough, only ceasing when the doctor whirls on him as if reminded he's there. "And you, didn't I tell you I wanted to take a look at that arm this morning? I'm relatively certain I did."

Vasquez waves his good hand airily, the weight he's giving the doctor's concerns made clear in his demeanor. "I'm fine. The arm is healing no problem."

"Is that so? Flex your fingers for me."

Grinning, Vasquez wriggles the fingers of his right hand.

"Very funny," the doctor scoffs. "Try again."

This time Vasquez moves the fingers of his left hand, followed by flexing the arm itself. Neither Faraday nor the doctor miss the pained grimace the second motion results in. 

"That's what I thought," the doctor grumbles. "That wasn't just a graze you got there, son, I had to go in and fish the damned thing out as you'll recall. And there was enough damage that you might find your mobility permanently hampered. Therefore, I'll kindly ask that you do me a favour and stop over exerting yourself when I tell you to rest."

Vasquez makes a face, and points a finger at Faraday with his good arm. "He is hurt much more than me, why don't you fuss over him."

Safely behind the doctor's back, Faraday mouths a suggestion that's both rude and physically impossible, plastering a sunny expression on his face when the doctor turns around to eye him too. 

"Trust me," the man says tiredly. "I'm well aware of the state your friend here is in. It took me hours to piece him back together, after all."

"And you did a damn fine job of it, doc," Faraday says brightly. "So fine that I think it's high time you let me back on my feet. What to do you say?"

The doctor gives him a disgusted glare. "I say you and this other nuisance deserve each other."

This time when it's Vasquez who makes the face at the doc's back, Faraday doesn't bother trying not to laugh. Sighing, the doctor glances back between the two of them as he thumps his medical bag down on the foot of Faraday's bed, cracking it open in preparation of whatever examination he's about to perform. "Oh, yes. You definitely deserve each other."

*****

After that Vasquez becomes a regular visitor in Faraday's room. Whether it's due to some misplaced sense of gratitude or fear of what the doctor will do to them, the townspeople adamantly refuse to let him help in the rebuilding process until his arm is healed, and they're as intent on fussing over him as they are the rest of the injured seven, something it turns out Vasquez hates with a passion.

"I got shot once, guero," he says when Faraday asks him about it one afternoon. "In the arm. There are men much worse off than me who are being allowed to help where they can, but they chase me away even when I offer to help with things I can do one-handed. It's like they think I'm a child.”

"More like they think you're a hero," Faraday points out. When Vasquez turns a quizzical stare on him, he shrugs as best as he's able, ever mindful of the still-healing bullet holes in his chest. "You fought for them when nobody else would, even though you didn't have too."

"That is even worse, then." Vasquez doesn't quite snap, but his tone is harsh. "I had nowhere else to go, and it was something interesting to do. That is all. I’m no hero."

"Bullshit," Faraday says, remembering the night out on the porch when Bogue was due to come calling the next morning. Vasquez had had the least reason to stay, but was the first to promise he would. Boredom and a lack of things to do be damned, he'd stayed because he'd wanted too. 

When he says as much aloud, Vasquez frowns at him suspiciously. "You are being awfully kind today, guero. Flattering even. Why is this?"

His face heating, Faraday does his best to brush the question aside. "You looked like you wanted an explanation for the locals' behaviour, so I gave it to you. That's all there is to it."

"Hmmph," Vasquez replies, looking only partly mollified. Then he shrugs and leans back in his seat, crossing his arms as best as he can with his ever present sling keeping the left one tight against his chest. "Well, they can stop any time now. I don't like it."

He doesn't either. Unlike Faraday, who would be all too willing to bask in the attention if it weren't for his being bedridden, Vasquez legitimately does not care for the fuss that's being made over him. He'd much rather be allowed to get his hands dirty in the rebuilding process like the uninjured Red and Sam.

Still, Faraday's only so willing to handle this kind of sulking, which is why he jabs at Vasquez as best he can with a finger. Successfully catching the other man's attention, he points to where his cards are sitting neatly stacked on the little table near his bed. "Grab 'em and deal. If you're goin' to make me hide you in here, you're goin' to work for the privilege."

Vasquez gives him a long look, and then snorts, reaching for the deck with his good hand. "I can't deal, guero. Got a bad arm, remember?"

"You're the one who keeps sayin' it's not that bad," Faraday reminds him. "And, anyway, I'll teach you to do it one handed. That's another of my many valuable skills."

"Oh, si," Vasquez agrees. "You have all kinds of skills. World's greatest lover and everything, I remember."

Faraday grins. "And don't you forget it, handsome." He says.

Vasquez simply rolls his eyes at the descriptor. Faraday'd taken to calling him that after their conversation surrounding what 'guero' meant, and he's got no plans to stop unless Vasquez tells him to and means it. So far, no real protest has been forthcoming, and it's got Faraday thinking there might be much more exciting things in store for him when he's finally freed from his bed.

*****

Unsurprisingly, the sling comes off Vasquez's arm long before Faraday's permitted to so much as sit up unaided. Unexpectedly, however, this doesn't stop him from making his daily sojourns into Faraday's room.

"The _doctor_ is still insisting I take it easy, and much of the work I could help with has already been done," he says the first time he slips into Faraday's room without his arm strapped down. He meets Faraday's suspicious gaze levelly. "You're not going to tell me I have to find somewhere else to hide after all this time, are you?"

Faraday's not entirely convinced this isn't Vasquez taking pity on him - or worse, Vasquez taking on the chore of minding him because it's the one thing the townsfolk are guaranteed to let him do - but he's willing to give the man the benefit of the doubt. He's pretty sure they qualify as at least friends and this point, and, while Faraday hasn't exactly been graced with a surplus of those during his lifetime, he's fairly certain enjoying each other's company is a typical result of such relationships. 

"You can stay," he decides finally, feeling something pleasant stir low in his belly when Vasquez gives him a pleased smile, "but I might change my mind if you don't share whatever booze I know you have stashed on your person."

“Maravilloso, I can do that," and then the bastard pulls Faraday's own flask from the depths of his vest, a teasing smile firmly etched on his face.

"Jackass," Faraday says without any heat.

*****

Just like how Faraday is around when Vasquez makes significant strides in his recovery, also true is the reverse. Vasquez is sitting in his usual spot, telling some outrageous story, complete with wild hand gestures and more Spanish than Faraday can reasonably be expected to follow, when the doctor arrives one sunny afternoon, and says he wants try getting Faraday on his feet.

"Do you mean it?" Faraday asks. He's more excited by the prospect of standing than he has been for anything else in a long while, though he's also skeptical. It's been so long since he's been allowed to move, he's half afraid he'll have forgotten how to do it.

The doctor, however, doesn't seem concerned. "You're progressing along exactly as I'd hoped in your recovery. In fact, you're slightly ahead of schedule. So, I suppose the only question is whether you're willin' to try it or not."

"Of all the stupid questions," Faraday grumbles, already shoving the bedcovers back off his body. "Doc, if you think I ain't ready to be out of this place, you are out of your goddamned mind. Lemme up!"

"Easy now," the doctor barks, his hands coming up to prevent Faraday from moving quite yet. "All we're doin' today is seeing if we can't get you upright. Don't think you're so much as leavin' this room until I think you're ready."

Not happy to hear how limited his freedom is apparently going to be, Faraday nevertheless keeps his mouth shut and contains his more vocal complaints. Getting up is a start, a huge one, and the last thing on earth he wants is the doctor taking even that much away from him. He looks over at Vasquez, instead. "You reckon you're ready to witness this historic achievement, handsome?"

If the doctor thinks anything of the endearment, he doesn't say so, but he does cut in before Vasquez can reply. "He's not witnessin', he's aidin'. On your feet," he adds, this time to Vasquez, and he punctuates the order with a little smack on the man's shoulder. "You're younger and stronger than me, so you get to catch him if he falls."

"I ain't gonna fall," Faraday snaps. His own worries be damned, the last person in the world he wants to see him fall flat on his face is Vasquez. He's got an image to maintain after all.

"Not on my watch, you're not," the doctor agrees. "Up, Vasquez."

Smiling good-naturedly, Vasquez does as he's told, climbing to his feet and taking up position right next to the bed as Faraday sits up and then slowly swings his legs over the edge. "There's no need to yell. I'm happy to help."

"You haven't seen me yell, yet," the doctor promises. Then he shifts his attention to Faraday. "Now, your muscles are going to be weak after so long inactive, and your bad leg in particular is bound to give you some grief. Take it slow."

It's good advice, sound to be sure, but Faraday's never done anything slow in his life if he could avoid it and he's not about to change now. Pushing off the bed with both hands, he's gets up on his feet far faster than he should, and nearly pitches forward before he can stop himself.

"Easy, guero," Vasquez's tone is sharp, but the hands he extends to prevent Faraday from taking a header onto the floor are as gentle as he can make them. He places one of Faraday's own hands on his shoulder, implicitly giving him something to lean most of his weight on.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," Faraday says, swaying only a little.

"What you are is lucky this one has fast hands," the doctor grumbles. He doesn't seem overly impressed with Faraday's stunt just now, but nor is he telling him to get back into bed. Faraday chalks this one up as a win for him. 

"He does have good hands, doesn't he?" Faraday asks cheekily, positive the only reason Vasquez doesn't swat at him is how it'd likely make them both fall over.

"You are not nearly as funny as you think you are, guero." Vasquez assures him with a roll of his eyes. "Not even close."

"I don't care if he's funny or not," the doctor interjects. "I'm much more interested in how stable he is. Think you can move around a bit, Faraday?"

It's slow going. He can't move in anything more graceful than a lurch, and it takes him an embarrassingly brief time to become short of breath, but he makes it from the bed to the doorway, with Vasquez a steady presence beneath his hand the entire time. 

"Not bad," the doctor remarks from his position on the other side of the room. "Although, I think that's enough for today. Back to bed with you. Vasquez, bring him over."

Unexpectedly, Vasquez turns to Faraday, rather than simply obey the doctor's order outright. He cocks a curious eyebrow, and after a moment Faraday realizes the outlaw isn't going to make him lie down again unless _he_ says that's what he wants. Feeling oddly charmed by this show of loyalty, Faraday nods back in acquiescence. He's tired and in more pain than he'd like to admit, bed is probably a good idea.

With Vasquez's help, he gets settled back amongst his plethora of pillows, letting out a contented sigh as he thinks over what's just occurred. "Not a bad day's work, huh, amigo?" He asks as the doctor packs up his bag and exits the room with a few minor instructions on how to behave.

Vasquez, who'd reclaimed his chair as soon as Faraday had been mostly horizontal again, shoots him a pleased grin. "Not bad," he agrees. "At this rate you might make it to the stairway before winter shows up."

Faraday glares at him without any real heat. "That's no way to talk to a recoverin' individual such as myself, muchacho. Just for that I expect you to be the one who gets me to said stairway, and maybe more after that."

Vasquez shrugs, but Faraday has a sneaking suspicion he likes this idea. "We will see, guero."

*****

"Oye, this is not what I meant when I said I would help you do this, guero." Grumbling low under his breath, though at least in English this time, Vasquez stops halfway across the main floor of the boarding house, their positions such that Faraday has no choice but to stop too. "This isn't working."

"What's not working?" Faraday asks, meaning it when he does so. As far as he's concerned the system they've developed over the past couple weeks is absolutely fine, especially since it has him right in front of the outside world for the first time in months, freedom so close he can practically taste it.

He stares forlornly at where the building exit resides only a few meters away, and adjusts the grip he has on Vasquez's shoulder as best he can. "Come on, Vas. Today's the day I get out of here, I can feel it."

"Si, guero, I'm not denying that. I'm just, here -." Reaching up, he removes Faraday's hand from its usual spot on his shoulder and then brings it down to tuck it into the crook of his elbow. "There. Like this."

Faraday blinks, a little thrown but not upset by this change in routine. He squeezes his hand lightly around the arm, enjoying the way he can feel sculpted muscle flex beneath his fingertips, and then loosens his grip to the minimum amount required. "Not that I'm complain', Vas, but why the switch up?"

"Because you are are pesado, guero. Heavy. And you put too much weight on me when you think you can get away with it. My way works better."

His face heating, Faraday moves to tug his hand free altogether. "Well, if I'm that much of a nuisance," he starts, managing to pull most of the way away before Vasquez stops him by curling his free hand over the one Faraday's tugging back.

"Idiota, you are not a nuisance. If you were I would have made you find someone else to do this days ago. Just listen to me." He gives Faraday's hand a little pat and then gestures at the door that's still waiting invitingly for them. "I got to see you get out of bed and down the stairs. Now I want to see you move for real. At least this time, I don't think you will be in danger of breaking your neck."

"You need to let that go," Faraday grumbles as they start moving again. His first time coming down the stairs had admittedly been less than spectacular, but it had hardly come close to resulting in injury. Even if Faraday had started to fall, the vice like grip Vasquez had maintained on his hand the whole time would have kept him from going anywhere. "I didn't so much as stumble."

"So you say, guero, but, me, I was there too."

Faraday considers hip checking the other man in reprimand, but, since that likely would see him spilling onto the floor, he refrains. He settles for shooting him a glare instead, their positions relative to each other ensuring that Vasquez can feel the brunt of it. "Jackass," he mutters for good measure.

Vasquez, as placid as ever, nods. "Si, guero, I know."

Reaching the boarding house door seems like an event worth noting, and they pause, both of them seemingly caught up in the moment without wanting to say so. "You want me to do it?" Vasquez asks when the silence goes on for a little too long.

Faraday shakes his head, focusing back on the task at hand, and then reaches out to shove at the door. "No," he insists. "I've got it."

It's warm out, something that shouldn't come as a surprise since the temperature of the boarding house isn't necessarily cooler, and the sunlight spills inside as Faraday moves the door open. The view of the street, while hardly different than it had been back before the battle, is at the same time one of the most amazing things he's seen in a long time, and Faraday sucks in a heavy lungful of air without thinking about it.

"Alright there, Faraday?" Vasquez asks, and a quick glance in his direction reveals that he's peering over with a worried frown.

Faraday responds with one of the biggest smiles he figures he's made in ages. "More than," he assures. "Betcha I can make it all the way to the saloon before I've got to sit down."

Vasquez snorts, refusing to rise to the bait. "I don't see why that matters. All you'll find over there are drinks and cards, and I've been bringing you both those things for weeks now."

"That you have," Faraday agrees, "and I'll wager you're a fair sight better lookin' then whoever's mannin' the bar these days. Still, I could do with a change of scenery."

Vasquez huffs out a sigh, but Faraday can tell it's all for show. "Fine, guero. If it's a change of scenery you want, then it is a change of scenery you will have."

Faraday grins, and thinks not for the first time that he'd made out like a bandit when Lady Luck had seen fit to throw Vasquez in his path. "I knew you'd see it my way. You always give me what I want in the end."

"If that is true, it's only so I will not have to listen to you complain about not getting it," Vasquez replies.

"Liar," Faraday says. He feels confident in that assessment. If Vasquez really found him as annoying as he claimed, he would have found somewhere else to hide out when the townsfolk and their well-meaning intentions got to be too much for him.

"You can prove nothing," Vasquez insists, but he doesn't try to mask the smile on his face.

Although Faraday's far more steady than he was the first time he'd been allowed out of bed, his gait remains uneven and he gets short of breath after moving not very far at all. Crossing the main floor of the boarding house turns out to be one thing, but despite it's only being a few buildings away, Faraday's plenty winded by the time they manage to reach the saloon, so much so that Vasquez starts making noises about stopping for a rest part way through.

"No," Faraday shakes his head when he hears this. "You said we'd go to the saloon, and I'm holdin' you to that."

"I also said we'd stop if it got to be too much for you." Vasquez points out. It's like he thinks he's reasonable or something sometimes, as opposed to a man who spends his life living outside the law.

"It ain't too much for me," Faraday declares, and resolves to keep going even if Vasquez abandons him.

Apparently able to sense this, and apparently equally unwilling to leave Faraday in his hour of need, Vasquez growls something rude sounding under his breath but drops the subject.

When they reach the saloon, Faraday has to fight the urge to crow in victory. He thinks he might have anyway if it'd wound up to be just Vasquez and him standing in front of the place, but it turns out they're not the only ones who've decided to have a little afternoon visit. Goodnight and Billy are outside on the porch, Goodnight sitting in one of the chairs kept there for patrons, with a cane in his hands and a tired look on his face, and Billy standing over his shoulder, ever the looming guardian.

Faraday's seen Billy a time or two during the course of his recovery; the man having poked his head in his room every now and again when he'd been up getting his own strength back. The last time he'd seen Goodnight, however, the man had been perched in the church steeple, providing Faraday with the cover he needed to charge Bogue's gatling gun. Say what you will about him having arrived late too the fray, that more than made up for anything in Faraday's books, and it was good to see him on his feet.

From his perch behind Goodnight, Billy glances back and forth between the two men who're obviously the more worse for wear, and then turns a commiserating gaze on Vasquez. "Yours wouldn't stay put either?" He asks, like that's supposed to mean anything.

Vasquez barks out a laugh, the sound booming out under the dry afternoon sun. "Aye, amigo, this one will only sit still for so long. Me, I figure it's better someone go with him. Otherwise, he'll fall right on his head."

Goodnight makes a face from where he's yet to move in his seat, though he sounds more amused than offended when he speaks. "Billy here expressed a similar sentiment when I made it clear I wasn't going to spend another minute locked up in that room if I could avoid it. I could pitch ass over tea kettle a dozen times in the span of a minute and it'd still be worth it."

"Amen," Faraday agrees, winking at Vasquez when the other man gives him an exasperated look. "What? You'd be just as bad if it were you trapped in a room for weeks on end. Don't lie."

The exasperated look fades into a smirk, and Vasquez nods his head agreeably. "Probablemente. Now, are we going inside, or would you rather admire the porch woodwork?"

"You're the one who likes carpentry, not me," Faraday says dryly. "Let's get on inside. You boys comin'?" He asks, turning to eye Goodnight and Billy.

The two men share a quick look, and then Goodnight nods, the motion obviously meant to convey both their agreements. "Might as well. As nice as the view is, I could do with a drink."

"I hear that." Faraday agrees.

He steps forward into the saloon, Vasquez a steady presence by his side and blinks a couple times as his eyes adjust to the dim light indoors. Then he spots a pair of familiar faces sitting at a table near the corner and heads in that direction.

Sam gives him an approving glance as he reaches him, though Red looks as impassive as ever. "Good to see you up and about Faraday," the older man says, obviously pleased. "And Goody too. What happened, you all decide to escape at once?"

"Actually Sam, we moved completely independently of each other," Goodnight says as he comes over and claims a seat for himself. "Billy and I were minding our own business out front when these two reprobates lumbered up out of nowhere. Well, Faraday was lumbering. Vasquez moves with more grace."

Faraday squawks at this while next to him Vasquez nods serenely. "Si, amigo, it’s true. Thank you for noticing."

"Hey!" Faraday snaps indignantly, turning so Vasquez can feel the full brunt of his glare. "Jackass."

"Yes, yes." Vasquez pats him lightly with the hand still curled around his arm. "We both know I'm right no matter how much you protest. Now, have a seat. You've been moving around enough that it is time for a break."

Grumbling under his breath, Faraday moves to follow the other man's suggestion. He grabs the chair beside Red, holding up a hand when Vasquez moves to take the next one in line. "Nuh uh, muchacho. All that walkin' made me work up an appetite. Go get me somethin' to eat."

Vasquez gives him an offended look, but Faraday meets it head on. "You're the one who just said I needed to rest," he points out reasonably.

Goodnight lets out a chuckle from where he's just claimed the seat on Sam's left. He laughs again when Vasquez glares at him. "You've got to admit the man has a point, Vasquez. You can hardly complain when he's doing exactly what you've asked him to."

"Fine." Vasquez throws his hands up in the air in exasperation. "I know when I'm beaten. Did anyone else want anything while I'm up there? I'm only going the once."

Most of those clustered around the table - Red being the notable exception as usual - toss out a couple of suggestions and Vasquez makes an annoyed noise. "I only have so many hands; someone is going to have to come with me."

"You mind, cher?" Goodnight cocks his head at Billy, who shrugs in response and then gets up to follow Vasquez.

"Yours is so much more accommodatin' than mine," Faraday says with a sad little sigh.

Goodnight gives him an incredulous look and when that doesn't result in anything shifts his gaze to Sam.

"Don't even go there, Goody." The other man tells him. 

"Right," Goodnight agrees with a nod. "Playing with fire and all that. How long do you think it'll take those two to grab food?" He adds with what Faraday is positive is a deliberate topic change.

"Not too long." Sam replies. He glances around the table and frowns. "Someone should probably go find Horne and see if he wants anything."

Goodnight shakes his head and resettles the cane he'd been using earlier against the table edge. "Let him be, Sam. Those of us who still qualify as the walking wounded are all moving at our own pace. Jack will be up and about when he's good and ready."

"He's already up." Red grunts. It's the first thing he's said since they'd sat down, and Sam nods along as he does so.

"The old bear's been camping out by the creek for a couple days now. He headed down there the second the doc's back was turned long enough." Sam's mouth curves up into a rueful smile. "Doc damn near pitched a fit when he found out, but not even he was willing to go down after him."

"Would you?" Faraday asks genuinely curious. 

Sam gives him an exasperated look and leans back in his chair. "Vasquez had better get back with that food soon. I think you're getting stupid with hunger, son."

"Hey!" Faraday protests. "You can't talk to me like that, Sam. I'm a recoverin' individual, so you have to be nice to me."

Sam rolls his eyes. "Faraday, if you want someone to be nice to you go pout at Vasquez. Otherwise, quiet down until the food gets here." He gives Faraday half a grin. "We wouldn't want you to strain yourself after all."

Faraday flops back in his chair and resolves to stay quiet until Vasquez gets back with something to eat. At least he can always be trusted to have his back.

*****

The afternoon Faraday gets told he's as close to healed as he's ever going to get, he's alone in his room for once. He'd seen most of the others, Vasquez included, earlier in the day when they'd sat down to breakfast, but he's been by himself for much of the time since, preferring his own company for a bit like he does every now and again.

This is how the town doctor finds him, reclined on his bed and half-considering a nap. 

"There you are," the man says as Faraday raises his head up from the pillow to get a better look at him. "Vasquez said he figured you were up here."

Faraday wonders not for the first time why everyone in this town thinks he and Vasquez are attached at the hip, and then decides he doesn't care. They can believe what they want. It's no skin off his back, and not as if he’d mind if they were.

Grunting, he moves to sit up fully and swings his legs over the edge of the bed. The right one twinges a little, the way it always does these days, but other than that he feels fine. He's wondering what the doctor wants with him and says as much.

The older man gives him a small smile and sets his ever-present medical bag down on the chair. “I’ve just officially cleared Mr. Robicheaux to go about his business with no more need of my care. With him out the way, that just leaves you to sign off on.”

Faraday perks up at that. “You sayin’ you think you’re done with me, doc?”

“I’m saying there’s a pretty solid shot of that, boy, yes.” The doctor reaches into his bag and comes up with some medical contraption or other. “Now, try to behave yourself, and we’ll get this over with as quickly as possible.”

*****

Faraday's back lying on his bed and pondering what he wants to do now that he's been given a clean bill of health when Vasquez wanders into his room without knocking. He gives Faraday and inscrutable look before he flops down into the chair Faraday's long since come to think of as his.

"You know," Faraday says, once the chair has gone through its usual round of creaking and groaning under the man's weight, "one of these days that thing is goin' to give up the ghost with you in it, and I pray to god I'm there to see it happen."

"That's because you a bad, bad man, guero." Vasquez informs him. "Besides, you are all better now, yes? I know that’s what the doctor came to tell you, and I don't imagine you'll be sticking around here much longer, there's too much wanderer in you."

"Fair enough," Faraday acknowledges. Trust Vasquez to suss that out without so much as a thought. "What about you? You could've taken off ages ago. What're your plans?"

Vasquez shrugs. "Don't know. I was the first to fully recover, but it's been nice to take some time and stay in one place for a change. Still," he wrinkles his nose thoughtfully, "I'm starting to get bored too, and with you, Goody and Horne finally cleared to leave, I don't imagine I'll stick around either."

"No fun without us, right?" Faraday asks. "And by us, I mean me. It's okay; you can admit how fond of me you are. I'll only tease you a little."

Vasquez rolls his eyes, but any reply he might make is cut off when Red appears in the doorway. Startled, Vasquez and Faraday just look at him for a moment, before Red frowns. "Sam wants to see everyone downstairs."

"Uh, why?" Faraday asks, and Vasquez makes a little 'What he said' gesture with one hand.

"I didn't ask." Red says, as blunt as ever. "Come on."

Faraday shoots Vasquez a look as Red vanishes as quickly as he'd arrived. "What do you think this is about?"

Vasquez shakes his head and gets out of his seat. "No idea, but it might be interesting. You coming?"

"You lead, I'll follow, handsome," Faraday replies, laughing when Vasquez makes a face at him.

It turns out Sam has a business proposal for the entire crew. 

"Am I hearing this correctly? Are you saying you want us to work together?" Faraday can't be certain, but he thinks this is the longest sentence he's seen Billy strung together since they've known each other. It's also definitely the most skeptical he's heard the other man sound, which is saying something.

Next to Billy, Goodnight coughs and then throws an arm around his long time partner's shoulders. "Not that we mean to sound dismissive here, Sam, but I think what Billy's getting at is that's an interesting idea."

"No, it's a crazy idea," Billy says succinctly. He turns to give Goodnight a stink eye. "We've already almost died once for this lunatic, are you honestly saying you want to risk it again?"

Goodnight makes a face Faraday can't quite parse out, and Sam speaks up before anyone else has to. "It won't be like this last job," he assures them all. "And I'm not talking about us all becoming bounty hunters either," he adds with a nod towards Vasquez.

"Then what are you talking about, amigo?" Vasquez asks. He's pressed up tight against Faraday, the close confines of the table they're clustered around necessitating as much, and Faraday leans in slightly to bump their shoulders together, conscious of the wary note in Vasquez's voice.

"I'm talking about carrying on as we have been, only with us being more selective in the jobs we choose." Sam lets his gaze roam around the table, landing on each of them in turn. "What we did here has already gotten out, and plenty more jobs are bound to come calling. I say we go with it."

Horne pipes up from where he's sitting sandwiched between Sam and Billy. "I do enjoy the idea of continuing on with you boys. It's been nice being part of a crew again."

"Part of a crew that almost died," Billy scoffs. He turns to look at Goodnight, who shoots him a considering expression in return. "Oh, don't tell me you're considering this. Goody!"

Goodnight shrugs. "Well, I don't know, cher. I find myself in a similar position to that of Jack here. I appreciate what we were all able to accomplish together, and I rather like the idea of seeing what we can pull off as a formal crew."

Billy makes an annoyed sound, but Faraday knows that's enough to have his mind made up. It was like he'd been told way back in Volcano Springs - where Goodnight goes, Billy goes.

"Well, that's three of you down," Sam acknowledges. "Plus, Red's already told me he's willing to give it a try. I guess that just leaves you two."

He looks over at Faraday and Vasquez, and Faraday stays quiet as he considers his options. Next to him, Vasquez digs an elbow into his side, and Faraday raises and eyebrow at the other man in return. Back in his room, he'd been about to suggest the two of them hit the road together, and if Vasquez likes the idea of joining up with the others then Faraday supposes he can handle that.

He cocks his head at Vasquez, who nods once. Satisfied, Faraday flashes Sam a quick smile. "I think we're in."

Sam leans back in his seat, looking satisfied. "Glad to hear."

*****

On the whole, Faraday decides he likes being part of a crew. He’s never travelled with more than one or two people before, and then only for brief stretches of time. Living day in and day out with the rest of the seven is different, however, enough that he’s going to keep it up barring any unfortunate unforeseen circumstances.

They’re stopped in the latest small town in an identical string of small towns, where Faraday's just taken a swig from a newly acquired glass of whiskey when a heavy elbow digs into his side. Sputtering, he heroically manages to not spit a mouthful of booze halfway across the table - something Goodnight and Billy should be grateful for - and glares over at Vasquez. 

Unperturbed, Vasquez elbows him again.

"What?" Faraday asks, his confusion only growing when Vasquez holds up an unlit cigar and waggles his eyebrows at him. "You offerin' me a smoke, Vas?"

Now Vasquez's eyebrows snap down, and his eyes narrow as he gives an adamant shake of his head. "No, guero. Need a light."

"Need a - oh." Faraday snorts, but shifts his arm away from where he's got it resting over the back of Vasquez's chair so he can start rooting around in his vest pockets. "What you need to do is stop forgettin' your own matches upstairs every time we're in a town."

"Why do that when I know I can always steal yours?" Vasquez asks, eyes dancing with laughter as he waits for Faraday to hand him his box of matches, placing the cigar between his teeth as he does so.

"Very funny," Faraday grumbles. His fingers graze over the matches in question, and he pulls them out of the recesses of his vest pocket in one fluid motion. "You're a damn thief, Vasquez. A shameless, incorrigible thief."

"Lord above, I think he just used his first ever five syllable word," Goodnight says from his spot directly across from Faraday. Beside him Billy snorts, and even Red briefly cracks a smile. "Someone buy him an extra drink to commemorate the moment."

Faraday shoots him a glare with no real heat in it, before then returning to the task at hand. "C'mere, Vas. I ain't handin' you the box because I know I'll never get it back." He strikes a match on the rough edge of the box, cupping his free hand around the flared tip in order to prevent it from blowing out.

Vasquez eyes him warily for a second, but eventually leans forward until Faraday can rest the match against the end of the cigar. Once it's lit, Vasquez pulls back while Faraday shakes the match out. "Gracias, guero."

"Not so fast," Faraday replies, holding up a hand to stop him before he can completely pull away. He makes sure his matches are safely back where they're supposed to be, and then motions towards the lit cigar Vasquez is now holding in his hand. "I give you a light, I deserve a puff or two, don't you think?"

For a second he thinks Vasquez might fight him on this, but Faraday gives him his best hangdog expression until the man obligingly offers him the smoke. "I think it is you who is incorrigible, guero," he says as Faraday takes a drag from the cigar.

"Maybe," he says, exhaling heavily, "but you love it."

"Oh, si, si," Vasquez replies, his voice weighted with sarcasm. "Now, give that back. I did not say you could have the whole thing, cabron."

Grinning, Faraday nabs himself one last drag before returning the cigar to its rightful owner. Then he loops his arm over the back of Vasquez's chair like he had earlier, not missing the way Vasquez leans into his side despite his complaints regarding Faraday's behaviour.

Off to the side, Red mutters something in his native tongue, and Sam shakes his head in agreement.

"You're telling me," he says, and then point blank refuses to explain what he means by that, no matter how long Faraday prods at him.

*****

Things take a rather abrupt turn later that evening. The seven of them are holed up downstairs in the saloon where Faraday’s been amusing himself by conning a bunch of the locals out of their hard earned money with his usual card tricks. He’s just won the latest round – to minimal grumbling from his new friends - when he happens to look over and spot Vasquez for the first time in a while.

“Huh,” he says because the man in question is engaged in an animated conversation with one of the town’s boys, a fellow about his own age who’s leaning much too far into Vasquez’s space for Faraday’s liking.

One of Faraday’s companions follows his gaze, and then snorts, nudging the man sitting next to him. “Looks like Jacob’s at it again.”

“Mhmm.” Is the quick reply. “Though at least this one looks like he might reciprocate.”

Faraday feels a sharp stab of anger as he realizes this is true. Vasquez isn’t quite wearing the easy-going expression he does when he’s surrounded only by people he knows, but he’s grinning down at Jacob in a way that sets Faraday’s teeth on edge. Even worse, he’s making no move to shove the interloper back away from him.

“You lot know that idiot?” He growls to the table at large.

The first man who’d spoken gives Faraday a surprised look. “Jacob’s harmless enough, son. He just likes to have a little fun now and again, in particular the kind of fun with no strings attached. You folks’ll be moving on soon enough, so that’s right up his alley.”

“I see.” Faraday lays his cards down on the table, no longer interested in starting a new game. “If you gentlemen will excuse me, somethin’ important has just come up.”

He thinks he hears one of the other card players mutter something concerned sounding under his breath, but he’s too busy striding across the room and shouldering his way into Vasquez’s space to pay it any mind. “Evenin’, Vas,” he says brightly, “who’s your friend?”

His tone must come across as too forward because Vasquez frowns, and the other man’s eyes go wide with alarm. “Faraday, what -?” Vasquez starts to say, but Faraday ignores him, turning instead to focus all of his attention on the local twit who’d had the nerve to stick his nose where it didn’t belong.

“Joshua Faraday,” he says, voice clipped. “Pleasure to meet you.”

“Uh, likewise?” Says Jacob, clearly not meaning it in the slightest. He visibly flinches as Faraday crosses his arms over his chest, continuing to stare him down. “You, uh, you must be one of this one’s crew.”

“This one.” Faraday repeats flatly. He’s now no longer going to settle for clocking this moron for jealousy’s sake, at this point he’s going to knock the man’s teeth out on principle. “He has a name.”

"Guero, may I talk with you for a moment?"

If Faraday were less angry, he might have picked up on the pissed off note in Vasquez's voice. As it happens, however, he's far too busy turning his best glare on the scruffy weasel trying to make a bid for the exit. This is probably why he doesn't notice the reaching hand until it's gripping the back of his collar and dragging him away from trouble like a naughty schoolboy.

"The hell are you doin'?" He demands, twisting around as best as he's able so that he can direct his glare at Vasquez. "Lemme go!"

"No," Vasquez says sharply, and Faraday sees that his teeth are clenched as he spits out the word, like he has any right at all to be the angry one here.

If Faraday thinks Vasquez is going to settle for merely hauling him away from his new friend and his all too grabby hands, he is sadly mistaken. Vasquez marches him all the way across the floor of the saloon, and continues to maintain his grip as he shoves him up the stairs to the second floor. Faraday struggles to get free the entire time, his face heating as more than one bar patron turns to stare at them as they pass, but Vasquez's grip is like iron and he can't break it.

It's only when they're upstairs and in the room they've been sharing that Vasquez finally loosens his hold. Shaking free as Vasquez slams the door shut behind them; Faraday yanks his shirt back into some semblance of order and glares at the other man. "What the hell was that?"

Vasquez glares right back, his eyes bright and angry. "I think it is me who should be asking that question, guero," he growls. "Seeing as I'm not the one who was acting like a jealous child."

"Of course I was jealous!" Faraday snaps, and he sees it as Vasquez's eyes go wide in surprise, like he wasn't expecting Faraday to admit as much. "The little bastard was flirting with you!"

"Yes." Vasquez agrees, and he bafflingly looks like he doesn't see a problem with this.

"And you were flirting back!" Faraday continues on, determined to get the full extent of Vasquez’s transgressions out in the open.

"Yes." Vasquez says, once again not seeming to find anything wrong with what he's just admitted.

Faraday sees red. "And you didn't think I might be just the slightest bit annoyed by that!" He yells, throwing his arms up in frustration. For lack of anything better to do, he stomps a little ways around the room, and then gives the stool he'd been sitting on earlier a kick that sends it spinning into the wall where one of the legs snaps off with a satisfying crunching sound. 

"Guero," Vasquez starts, some of the anger in his voice having been replaced with concern. "What -?"

Faraday cuts him off with a wave of his hand. "Vas, I ain't particularly in the mood for hearin' you talk right now. Do us both a favour and shut up for a bit, will you?"

"I won't," Vasquez snaps, and Faraday sees him cross his arms over his chest out of the corner of his eye, pulling himself up to his full height like he's getting ready for a fight. "You don't get to tell me what to say, or who to say it to!"

"Well, that much is obvious!" Faraday barks, his anger ratcheting up all over again. He crosses his own arms over his chest, mirroring Vasquez's position, and they match each other glare for glare. "Funny though, I don't know how they do things in Mexico, but where I come from it's considered impolite to string someone along for months on end and then toss them aside for the first piece of ass that comes callin'. Honestly, I figured you were better than that."

"No tienes sentido, guero," Vasquez growls, slipping into Spanish like he does when he's truly frustrated. "What are you talking about?"

"Nothin'," Faraday snaps back. "I am apparently talkin' about absolutely nothin'!" He waves a hand in the direction of the door, figuring his meaning should be plain. "I imagine you've got better things you feel like doin' right now, so go on, get. Maybe you can track down that little tart from earlier before he flings himself at somebody else."

"Faraday, stop being ridiculous!" Vasquez orders. "I know it's hard for you, but for once in your life, try."

"Oh, I'm bein' ridiculous now, am I? Alright, sure, why not?" Faraday pauses and considers the word. "Actually, you know what? Ridiculous is probably a good way of puttin' it. I've been ridiculous to throw myself at you for months now, when you never responded. Goddamned ridiculous!" 

And didn't that just burn? True enough, buried deep under all the anger that's currently brimming to the surface is enough hurt and shame to almost knock him off his feet. He can't believe he's spent all this time thinking he and Vasquez were on the same page only to find out they weren't even in the same book. 

"When did you throw yourself at me?" Vasquez demands, further cementing Faraday's newfound belief that neither of them wants the same thing. "You have never said you wanted me like that. Not once!"

"I haven't -!" Faraday briefly loses all capability of speech and distantly wonders if this is what having a stroke feels like. He takes a few seconds to regroup, and then bellows, "Vas, y’goddamned idiot! What did you think all the fuckin' flirtin' meant?! That I just wanted to be friends?"

Now Vasquez is staring at him like he's grown a second head. As Faraday watches, he uncrosses his arms and settles his hands to rest on his hips instead. "You do that with everyone." He insists. "All the time. It is just how you are."

" _Since when_?!" Faraday yells, fully prepared to demand the name, rank and serial numbers of every person he's supposedly flirted with in Vasquez's presence. "I ain't so much as looked at another person in a dog's age because I figured you and me were just dancin' around the issue and eventually it'd get settled all proper like." 

Vasquez rocks back on his heels at the force of Faraday's words. He raises one hand as if to try and forestall any more shouting. "Guero, could you please, just for a moment, consider that I don't have any idea of what you are talking about here, and bear with me for a few minutes. Can you do that?"

"Fine," Faraday grits out, figuring he's got no reason to say otherwise.

"Gracias," Vasquez says, looking relieved. He points a finger first at Faraday and then at himself. "Now, you are saying that you, Joshua Faraday, want me. Correct?"

"Yeah." Faraday mutters, feeling his face heat and his jaw clench. He doesn't appreciate the way Vasquez keeps harping on that point - it isn't as if he's gone out of his way to have it remain a secret.

"Bueno. Now, we are getting somewhere." Vasquez points at himself a second time. "And you are further saying that you thought I was aware of this, yes?"

"Yes," Faraday repeats. "Obviously. It's not like I was tryin' to hide what I was after."

"And yet still you succeeded because I had no idea." When Faraday turns an incredulous stare on him, Vasquez raises his hands defensively. "It's not like you ever _said_."

Faraday continues to stare at him. "What, you think I go around callin' everyone I meet 'handsome' and lettin' them into my space without so much as battin' an eye?"

Vasquez's face flushes, and in spite of the situation Faraday can't help but find the sight fascinating. He's seen Vasquez blush a little before, but nothing like he's doing right now. It's something else to be sure.

His cheeks dark, Vasquez scuffs awkwardly at the floor with the toe of his boot. "You still never said," he mumbles.

For the first time since he'd seen someone who wasn't him lean into Vasquez's space and not get pushed away, Faraday laughs. "I didn't think I needed to." He admits, figuring he might as well throw that out there on the off chance it'll help. "It's not like I was goin' around treatin' Goodnight or Red or whoever the same way. It was just you."

"Just me." Vasquez echoes, and Faraday feels faint tendrils of hope start to stir somewhere in his chest. He's not sure, can't be sure, but he thinks Vasquez sounds a little pleased that Faraday's attention has been solely focused on him.

"Just you," he says again, raw and honest in a way he usually isn't. 

"And," he feels the sudden need to point out, "I'd like to note that you never once told me stop. I don't suppose you've got an explanation for that, do you?"

"Because I didn't want you to," comes the prompt reply, and Faraday has to fight the urge to make a victorious noise. Vasquez shrugs. "I like the things you do, so long as they're only for me."

"They _are_ ," Faraday stresses.

"Si," Vasquez agrees. "I know that now, but I didn't before."

"Idiot Mexican," Faraday grumbles, and Vasquez rolls his eyes.

"Guero, insulting both me and my heritage is not necessarily going to get you what you want. I hope you know this."

"Fine," Faraday decides. He cocks his head to one side, and let's his gaze sweep up and down the length of Vasquez's body. "What is goin' to get me what I want?"

"Mainly by saying what you're after," Vasquez informs him. He strides across the room and gets his hands tangle in the fabric of Faraday's shirt. "Here. Let me introduce you to what is known as the direct approach."

Faraday brings his hands up to curve them around Vasquez's hips, using his hold to drag the other man in as far as he'll go, and he has to admit as their mouths meet that the direct approach isn't half bad. 

*****

When Faraday wakes up the next morning it's with a crick in his neck and his face mashed into Vasquez's shoulder. He blinks tiredly a few times, and then lets out a groan as he slowly starts to work the kinks out of his muscles. Beneath him, Vasquez rumbles out a laugh.

"I was wondering if you were ever going to wake up, guero," Vasquez tells him, rolling over into his back and peering up at Faraday in the faint morning light. "You have been snoring for ages."

Faraday yawns and then shakes a finger at him. "Two things. One, I don't snore, and I'll think you kindly for not repeatin' such scandalous rumours. And two," he adds, louder now because he has to drown out Vasquez's snickering, "I wouldn't have needed so much sleep if _somebody_ hadn't put me through the wringer last night."

Vasquez gives him an over exaggerated stare, his eyes theatrically wide. "Are you saying I was too much for you, guero? I suppose I could always go find someone else to keep up with me."

He trails off thoughtfully, and Faraday feels no qualms whatsoever about reaching out and giving him a vicious pinch in the side. "I'll thank you kindly for not repeatin' _that_ either," he says as Vasquez yelps and tries to flail away from him. 

"Hmmph," Vasquez mutters darkly. Glaring up at Faraday, he rubs a protective hand over the spot he's just been pinched. "And here I was going to suggest we go again before breakfast. See if I let you do that now, cabron."

Undeterred, Faraday pushes back into the other man's space, not stopping until he can catch his mouth in a kiss. Vasquez puts up a token protest for all of two seconds, and then he's parting his lips and letting Faraday's tongue slip inside. 

Faraday feels it when Vasquez gets a hand in his hair, setting long fingers trailing through his curls, almost like he's petting him. Letting out a pleased hum, he deepens the kiss, and hopes Vasquez takes this as a sign to keep doing what he's doing.

The need to breathe finally forces them apart, but Faraday refuses to go any further than he has to, pulling back only a scant few inches and gazing down at Vasquez from his superior vantage point. Vasquez, for his part, merely looks back at him, seemingly content to stay right where he is.

Still. "This is good, right?" He asks, and if he comes off as tentative it's only because he'd almost colossally bungled things the night previous and doesn't want to make that mistake again.

Luckily, Vasquez is, as always, willing to humour him. "Si, guero," he says, lifting his head up as he moves in for another kiss. "It's good."


End file.
